Easy Silence
by outkasthpfanatic
Summary: Though they were comfortable with silence, would've saying something changed things? A Draco/Hermione one-shot. Disclaimer: The title is from the Dixie Chicks song, Easy Silence. Edited!


Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters and related insignia belong to JK Rowling

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter, characters and related insignia belong to JK Rowling. No profit or any of the sort is being made from this story :-)

**AN**: A one-shot that just suddenly came to me. I love one-shots. There's something about one-shots that please me and disappoint me at the same time. I am contented and discontented after I finish reading a one-shot. Perhaps it's the magnificence of how a single chapter could capture emotions without having to go great lengths. Perhaps what disappoints me is knowing that there are a lot of possibilities that could've happened in the story but unfortunately do not because that would mean two-shots or a multi-chaptered story itself. But at the same time, one-shots interact with the reader, leaving the rest of what happens after the one-shot to the readers' imagination. So, yeah, enjoy!

**Easy Silence**

The wind blew against the fabric of her jacket and she instinctively held it closer to her. The dimly-lit lamp post was her only source of light in this strange alley. She looked at her surroundings, but she was careful not to attract any attention to her, as she was alone. And though she had a wand with her, she knew the danger that her perpetrator might also be magically able. So she'd rather not risk anything, thank you very much. She looked at her wristwatch as if this would end her prolonged agony. She had remembered their agreement.

"_2 in the morning at the alley," he told her hastily and then walked away. _

There was a sense of urgency in his tone. It was very business-like. But she knew better than to believe this for he had always been like that. Perhaps the only time he was not serious was when he suddenly takes her hand into his and nestles her fingers on the spaces between his. It was platonic, really. What started from a single encounter in the library became a much more complicated situation. Imagine a spider web being spun. It starts out as a very simple structure which becomes an intricate one. The spider gives all its efforts into spinning the very device that would get it what it craved for, what it hungered for: a fly. And who she was in this analogy was not a big mystery. Of course, she was the stupid fly who flew onto the bait. One encounter with the _much quieter more mysterious _Draco Malfoy made her wanting to go back for more; even if she knew that she would get burned in the end. It was like poison seeping through her veins. But she liked it, and she allowed for it to spread within her. No, they were not romantically involved. They never kissed, they had never said the L word to each other, and they never hugged. _It was purely platonic, really._ Perhaps the only touching they did was every time he took her hand and interlaced her fingers with his. That was it. There was no commitment. That word would've plunged the both of them to the depths of hell. She was far too busy for a relationship, and he? Well you know the old stories and theories they have of the Malfoy's: they are incapable of love, of feeling.

So what was she doing here in the wee hours of the morning? She was waiting for him. It had been ten minutes already since their agreed time, and he was nowhere in sight.

--

He took his bag.

"Bullocks, my wand!" He said as he quietly returned to his room. Snape was very selfish for asking Draco to help him out with a potion. Why this night of all nights? But of course, he couldn't raise suspicion. So he did what he had to do, and he made sure that he wouldn't make a tiny mistake because that would waste his precious time.

He was meeting her, in about fifteen minutes. He remembered the vivid details of her face that one night when he told her to meet him at the alley. She was slightly surprised that he had approached her outside the confines of the library, but she managed to compose herself before you could even say 'shenanigans'. Why was he asking her to run away with him again?

Oh yes! They would never approve of them. No one would. There was just something about her that made him want to bathe in her presence, even if it was the sort of presence that was not pleasant at all; like that one time when she had punched his face during third year. True, it was painful. And she punched so hard, it would've put Weasley into shame. But it made him feel something pleasant. Something so sadistically pleasant. At the same time it also made him feel human, to have a woman stand up to him instead of adore his looks. He knew that he wasn't lacking in that department, but she was one of those who never fell for it. Maybe it was the fact that she was hard to get _or just_ playing hard to get. Men love women with a challenge, with a twist. And she was anything but easy.

It all started when she sat down on his table one time at the library. They weren't talking at all. And it was a comfortable silence. Maybe that was what he liked about his _situation _with her; they could be quiet yet not be awkward. Where did all the insults go? Well, this year at Hogwarts wasn't easy for him. The task that he was expected to fulfill was killing him, although he would never admit it. It's a kill or get killed world. So maybe that was the reason why he suddenly stopped with the bickering. He was too tired. And he knew that she noticed that, too. It was a silent agreement they had both signed up for. It was sudden, but it wasn't very far from real. Maturing could bring you to those heights, I guess. Then suddenly, she found herself coming back to _their _place in the library. It would be like that every night: studying without a single word uttered. But one night, she was the first to speak.

If this were romance, you would probably expect their hands to accidentally brush the other's and then Hermione would blush to an extent that would be very uncalled for. Well, if you're looking for romance, I'm afraid you picked the wrong fanfic. Instead it was the very boring statement, "Malfoy, can I see your notes on Potions?" He just looks up from his parchment and hands it to her. After this encounter, their _relationship, _which they insist is platonic, takes a level up. They begin discussing their academics in order to be of help to the other. If you think Hermione does not need help with her studies, while I'm afraid to tell you that you're gravely mistaken. She has some _minor_ misconceptions in potions which to our very relief is Draco Malfoy's specialty. And that's the reason why their late nights have never been boring. They talked about school, how elves should be or should not be freed, how the ministry is a big douchebag (with Hermione insisting that Mr. Weasley was the only exception), and so on. He had never talked to someone this intellectual, and he finds comfort in the fact that girls like her weren't extinct… yet. He had changed over the year, special thanks to that task, but she was the only one who managed to keep him intact; her and their nightly discussions. So how did he realize that the muggle-born had somehow found a way into his… priority list? He's so proud, he would never even allow his thoughts to linger on matters like _those_. Going back to how he knew, well it was the first night wherein she never came. And he found himself searching for her, scanning the area for any signs of that thing she calls hair. He convinces himself that it was solely because he was used to the company and so, being alone made him feel uneasy. So when she shows up the next night, he acts rather coldly toward her. She doesn't ask, even though he knew she was itching to because that would've crossed the line that they both drew. It was obvious that he didn't hate her. Hell if he did, would he still go back to that place if he knew that she would be there? Of course not! Then surely, his sudden coldness toward the girl means something, right? Right. But he would never tell us, for he is Draco Malfoy.

He walks out of his room and is almost at the exit when a voice calls out to him, "Malfoy, now where could you be going at this late of an hour?"

--

Thirty minutes had gone by, and still there wasn't any sign of Malfoy. But Hermione just sat still. She remembered that night when they were studying in the library. She suddenly feels something cold. Surprised, she suddenly stops but composes herself as she looks at his face. His right hand was on her left but he was still engrossed with what he was reading. And he was very good in acting as if he weren't doing anything. It was just there: his large callous hands resting on the back of her left hand. It was comfortable that pretty soon she had gotten used to it. Some nights, while writing an essay, he would play with her fingers. But what really disturbed her was the feeling that she gets when he would put her fingers on the spaces of his hands. No, she wasn't in love with him. It was far from that. Not a crush. It was purely platonic as she had explained every time she comes up with questions as to what she and Malfoy really were. Outside the library, they never act _as study partners _but they also were civil to each other. But at times, she would catch him looking at her while she laughs at a joke Harry cracks. And she would see a brief glance of something flash through his eyes. Of course he hated Harry, but she never failed to notice that when she catches him looking at her while she was with someone from the opposite sex, that same look was there. No, she wouldn't want to assume. Platonic.

Platonic? But if this were purely platonic, why would she wait for half an hour past their agreed period? If this were purely platonic, why was she hopeful that he just sprained an ankle on the way? Why? Because Hermione Granger, pride aside _for now_, realized that somewhere along, she had fallen for said boy.

--

"None of your business, Zabini" he said venomously. He was ill-tempered. It was already two in the morning.

"Why not tell me, Draco? We're comrades after all. I guarantee you, no chummy-chum, but yeah, you can tell me anything," he told Draco with a sly smile

"Get out, I'm in a hurry" He told him hastily and pushed him out of the way brusquely

"Don't, Draco. She would just be endangered _more_." He told him quietly.

He stopped in his tracks, but he knew that Zabini didn't know anything. No one would! No one _should_.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asks and without waiting for a reply, walks toward the door.

"Hermione Granger," he said with a smile that made Draco want to rip his jaws off. "My task Draco, is to keep you in line should you be _distracted._"

"Snape is here to do just that," he told Blaise as he gritted his teeth.

"But Snape doesn't know your _other _affairs. Let's just say the Dark Lord took an insurance policy."

He scowled at him. "Zabini, please." Was he begging? Fuck yes. For her!

"I won't tell anyone, but please do not step out of this room, Draco," he told the blond.

"Please, Zabini," he said trying to sound emotionless. But it came out sounding _defeated _and somewhat _desperate_. Blaise felt sorry for him, but things had to be put in order.

"I'm sorry, Draco. It would only endanger you further. The Dark Lord will kill you both. No hiding place is safe when he is furious. Not now. Not while you have not fulfilled your task, Draco." He told him.

He tightened his grip on his wand. It was approximately half an hour past their meeting time.

"Draco, how about this? I can assure you her safety during the war. I promise you that." He told Draco seriously.

"Why are you doing this? Threatening me would've been enough, but why bargain with me for something you will definitely not fulfill?" He asked angrily.

"I promise you that. And no, I am not doing this for the mudblood. I see how much she means to you, Draco. And the least I can do is assure you of her safety during the war." Blaise told him.

"Why Zabini? Why do you sound like you _actually _have a heart?" He asked with a sadistic laughter.

"Because she makes you feel, Draco. And I know that it would be a mistake to have her perish then have a useless death eater with us," he told Draco.

"So it all comes down to the success of the death eaters?" Draco asked in mockery. Of course. _They_ needed an assurance that Draco would complete his task, and that he would have something to _live _for after the war. And here he thought Zabini had actually grown a heart, or got one from the black market.

"The unbreakable vow, I want it Zabini. Show me how loyal you are to your cause," he challenged Zabini.

He nodded.

He gave a sigh. _Granger, I hope you would understand. A bargain for your safety._

--

It was already three AM. He wasn't coming. And she was tired. She couldn't hide the fact that she was depressed. She knew that no matter how much she repressed thoughts of him having feelings for her, it sometimes escaped her platonic filter. And his no-show act was a perfect proof of her platonic theory. She wasn't angry with him. She wasn't allowed to. It's not as if they were in love with each other or something. Right? Right.

And she apparated home.

--

It had been a week. She had stopped going to the library. He knew she was hurt. And he felt a piercing sensation in his… chest. He was in the astronomy tower thinking about things, and how things would've been had he said something. Would they have had a genuine relationship? This man-should-be-the-first-to-admit was somewhat unnerving. But, a girl confessing her love for a guy would appear _desperate _so he felt somewhat satisfied of how things worked on earth. What if's? Sure! He had plenty of them. As he walked back to the castle, he sees the person he wanted to see badly after a week.

She is surprised but she composes herself as she always would.

His mind was shouting, screaming for him to say something to her. _Sorry_ would work or some crappy explanation. She looked at him expectantly, but she knew better than to expect too much. And so she proceeded to her destination.

He wanted to beat himself up. Silence wasn't good all the time but he found himself dumbfounded. No matter how much he wanted to explain and apologize, he never could. For even _love _could never defrost his already stone cold tongue.

**AN**: Review, loves! :-D


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